*featuring Beanie Sigel, Memphis Bleek
|
|
[Jay-Z]
|
Yeh, it's that knock right here
|
You fuck around not have the right speakers in your system
|
your shit be soundin like this [*funny sounds*]
|
|
Big thangs, thick chains, ain't shit changed
|
Get brain in the four-dot-six Range
|
Shit mayn, switch lanes
|
Every town I hit you switch lames, bitch flip big 'caine
|
|
I givin 'em whiplash when I'm whippin the whip fast
|
Which one? Pick one nigga, I got a six stashed
|
Continental T's, no tense like I got a thick stab
|
Big cigar, old money, when I drop it it's so funny
|
Six-four switches, slam doors on 6's
|
Big trucks when I wanna fuck and it's time to get ass
|
I turn automobiles to hotels on wheels
|
I got money for a room it's just the fact that I'm trill
|
Bitches love when I cruise up the boulevard
|
They have contests to guess which car I'ma pull out the yard
|
They know I, come for dolo and pull off with a broad
|
Spin away, spend a day tryin to pull menage
|
Just Mac (??) God, the sunlight hit the ice it's flawless
|
Run lights like I'm the king of New York, I'm lawless
|
Bitches, they wanna hang like plaques in the office
|
Cause I push black Porsches, Benz's and Jaguars-es
|
When the rag's off it, gat on my lap, I'm that cautious
|
Never trust grimy-ass New Yorkers
|
'Specially when you're sittin on 20's they get nauseous
|
Standin in the Azure with white air forces
|
|
[Chorus: sung]
|
You can catch me in the parkin lot
|
Hollerin at bitches, parkin lot pimpin'
|
Everyday we be off the chains
|
Workin with grain, sittin on them thangs
|
Tryin to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at)
|
So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back)
|
Everyday we be off the chains
|
Ain't nuttin different, parkin lot pimpin'
|
|
[Beanie Sigel]
|
Holla at me mami! Sigel..
|
|
You can catch Mac in the parkin lot, pimpin crazy
|
S-5, Navy 'Cedes, sittin on 80
|
That's four dubs, not S-4 dub
|
Stash box, push +Hot Wheel+ like +Matchbox+
|
Bitches wanna push my world, they flash box
|
160, push my wheel, mash cops
|
Cause 160 took my wheel to cash drop
|
Run 60, you Big Will, match cop
|
Lookin through the rearview and Mac was wylin
|
New driver, screwdriver, the cracked steering column
|
Pushin somethin stolen, blastin, picture me rollin
|
Baghdad, couldn't picture me ??
|
Now the truth different, Mac come through Coupe roof missin
|
I'm the truth til my fuckin roof missin
|
Mac stay stuck in the Coupe to school pigeons
|
Feathers gettin plucked in the truck from loose chickens, listen
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Memphis Bleek]
|
Yo, aiyyo I dip dip dive, what can I say?
|
I can't fit 'em all inside the Escalade
|
So I called up, murder to further my parkin lot pimpin
|
Told 'em get the Impala so I can start dippin
|
Lay back, seat recline, they notice the hand
|
Car movin slow, driven by the invisible man
|
Everything on the dash, digital and
|
I got a fast stashbox don't make me spit at you man
|
In the parkin lot, where I spark a lot
|
I come to show my new feet, slide off with a few freaks
|
Bleek, turn up the beats.... turn up the heat then we burn up the streets, bitch!
|
|
[Chorus 2X]
|
|
-----------------
|
Parking Lot Pimpin'
|
Jay-Z |